Friday began with snow. Large flakes so it was a small fall. Funny enough I believe this might've been the most significant snow this winter. Reckon Colorado Springs received three inches of the white stuff. Around 1 p.m. MDT the sun broke through the clouds, from my vantage I think the clouds thinned just enough, and started melting the snow.
Lunch was taken in my car where I read S.T. Joshi's annotated The Dunwich Horror and listened to the snow sliding off my roof, down the windshield and melting into the parking lot. Come quitting time no one would've guessed that it had snowed at all.
Last Friday I found a face-up penny while leaving work. Much to my surprise I saw that it was from 1959! I put it in my pocket and went home. Whenever I was at work, really the only time I wear regular pants, I was rubbing the pocket material against the coin when I was out on break.
By Wednesday it shone, all that crud that gave it a dark brown patina was gone. Yeah there were some dark bits around Lincoln's profile and the letters but still it was remarkable. Despite the penny I didn't win Powerball. Thursday I decided I was going to bring the penny with me while I ran after-work errands for the house. First I dropped it at King Soopers in the self-checkout lane and popped it into my shirt pocket. I kept checking to see it was still there.
Finding the penny was behind my brief, ill-conceived essay regarding my theory regarding good fortune. At first I wasn't going to mention anything hoping to adhere to the four rules of "To know, to will, to dare and to keep silent".
After dinner and fucking around on the computer bedtime raised its sleepy head. Before hitting the hay I decided to make Spot all vicious by playing with her which involved putting her under my shirt and rubbing her belly. I started to bed with a smile only to think "OHSHI- the penny!" I checked my shirt and it was gone. Fucking gone! Took me thirty minutes of searching on my hands and knees around the apartment to realize how ridiculous this endeavor was for a humble cent piece. Sure it's 49 years old, shiny and has significantly more copper than the discs currently issued by the Republic of the United States of America to represent 1¢.
When I went to work on Friday I had a minor concern regarding the end of Thursday. Once again work has picked up and the announcement was made that no one is going home until all the applications were done. It took a herculean effort to retain my serenity and avoid ranting "I DO MORE THAN HALF THESE FUCKING PEOPLE AND YOU WANT ME TO FUCKING STAY AFTER? THE TARDS STAY AFTER SCHOOL..." and so forth. The spivak who would go off on that tangent is still locked away in my head. Still I left at four despite the edict thinking fuck it. Friday morning I gave a slight search for the penny and went to work.
Nothing went wrong. Friday was a good day with unusual weather. Life goes on. A magic coin has no bearing on my life. I am in control of my life and my next lesson is to learn how to drive with one hand rather than gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles at 10 o'clock and 2 o'clock.
Superstition is fun but it really has no bearing on the world or one's good fortune.
Anyway ever since last October I feel like I've burned all my bridges. Shit, I'm pretty damned certain one two people don't like me and just tolerate me.
Took me fifteen minutes to get up the gumption to write that and figure out how to write for heptapod.org while maintaining the high standards of honesty which are a hallmark of this humble vanity site.
It's said and done, now let it die.
In the middle of this passage was a large, conical, rough-hewn stone which was light brown instead of dark gray or black like the surrounding geology. The more I looked at it, the more I could see crevices and cracks which could very well be hiding eyes. Unsurprisingly one flicked open and a green eye glanced around before furtively shutting upon spotting me.
Over the course of hours many more eyes opened, darted around and then vanished. At one time there were three jade eyes open.
Later I was in a small wooden shack about a mile from the beach. I know I was with people but I don't recall their identities or what they looked like in the first place. A black shape about the size of a plum began buzzing around my head much to everyone's amusement. They declared it a stinkbug. Hilarity increased at my expense as I tried to swat the fucking thing away from my face.
It landed and became a small black quadruped. Like an orca it had large white marks over its eyes. Along the snout were thick whiskers like a mole and overall the body was shaped like our delicious friend the pig. No longer arthropodian I felt considerable compassion and fondness towards the beast which was now more interested in maintaining distance between us rather than pestering me.
My how the worm has turned.
